Confined by abstract vines

Confined by your abstract vines

I lay here,   

feeling engraved,   

 

My thoughts become a cemetery   

of dreadful optical illusions   

that will never surface humanity,   

 

Feeling as if the constellations   

play apart in my agony that leaves   

me to dwell on traumatic events, 

 

Hoping and searching for   

the antidote to these   

devastating occurrences,   

 

Looking around as my eyes   

stiffen due to the cement   

that is starting to dry away   

my final day,   

 

Will you ever feel the sympathy?   

Why must I hurt myself   

to have you endure   

an abyss of   

immeasurably deep pain?   

 

Your eyes begin to glimmer   

my soul's perishing thoughts   

the relief starts to inhabit   

your cortex   

 

The imagery that is woven   

within your irises's,   

starts to inject your veins   

with distaste and disfigured   

thoughts of who I was, 

 

Memories become the   

ventriloquist of this mayhem, 

my vital heart is attached to   

each string of nostalgia, 

 

I became your marionette,

my feelings become a manikin,   

my bittersweet essence   

is the store's windows,   

 

The intoxicating thoughts

are manifesting away into   

every chromosome that governs   

the functionality of who I am,   

 

I try to have remorse, 

but part of me is a   

remorseless sociopath,   

the other part will   

die a thousand times for you,   

 

Why must I empathize with   

every diseased notion that   

was made in history?   

 

Too infatuated with each   

complication that is in this   

paradox of a mindset, 

 

Why do I spoon feed myself quarantine?   

How do I differentiate   

between the aspirations that   

give birth to these complications   

and the thoughts of global annihilation?   

 

I'm fixated on fixations of illusions   

of longevity,   

prospering hope, 

and windowless emotions,   

 

I needed you to be my beacon of light,   

but you were without sight,   

and it felt as if your image   

took flight on a dreary   

night of unparalleled   

spite,   

 

Your subtle voice starts to banish   

with every other piercing action   

you've made,   

 

I was the pawn   

on the chessboard,   

the sacrificial   

piece to your   

philosophy,   

 

Hate starts to trickle   

down my spine with   

neurological signs,   

that were overwhelming   

all my thought patterns,   

to only leave me to suffer   

more tragic endeavors, 

 

Why does Murphy's law   

feel as if it was intended   

to be the blueprint of   

this vicious loop? 

 

As the cement begins   

to subside into   

my bloodstream, 

I can only project the nostalgic   

beauty and chaos   

that enveloped me, 

 

The bittersweet abnormality   

of this tragedy, 

is I gained this knowledge,   

whilst watching myself die over   

again with a aerial view,   

and I was seeing myself become   

an astral presence,   

 

I want to say sorry for not   

seeing my own demise within   

your charismatic lies,   

never forgetting those eyes,   

eons may pass, but I'm   

gone without a tear in   

these eyes 

Oblivion's Paradox ©11/13/2012